A Torn Perfection
by Lylilu
Summary: Cynthia is powerful, but not perfect. Seemingly untouchable, but not at all flawless. And, as Cyrus learns, she is far from invincible: not when it comes down to what makes us all human. Cynthia x Cyrus, based on the games. Multichaptered.
1. and he remembers

**3. and he remembers**

_The explosion occurred at approximately 1:45 PM, directly in front of the ruins of Celestic Town. Local police believe that the bomb was set by Team Galactic, whose criminal activity at Lake Valor also resulted in catastrophic effects across Sinnoh. Authorities believe that an estimated 500 were killed by the explosion, while some 2,000 are in dire need of medical attention. Among these casualties are the Sinnoh League Champion, Cynthia, currently in critical condition-_

He turned the television set off, cutting the news announcer short. The silence overwhelmed the room, enveloping him in waves of nothingness.

This was never supposed to happen. Not to him, and certainly not to her. It was cruel fate. Cruel reality. But he felt nothing.

A normal person would break down. A normal person would watch the screen with fixed desperation, pleading for it to be a dream. A normal person would see her face in his mind's eye and run, run to her, tell her that he was sorry, so sorry-

But he felt nothing. He couldn't feel. And the silence stifled him, suffocated him, until his mind reeled and his heart beat faster, sending the blood of a killer pulsing through his body. His fingers clenched into a fist, and nails cut into calloused skin. Steely dark eyes cast a cold gaze upon the bare walls.

The minutes went past. He remembered her, though his memories held nothing but pain. He remembered the clever spark in her otherwise soft grey eyes, the way an amused smile always seem to tug at the corner of her lips, the way she talked, as if the words weren't just _words_ but the lilting notes of a song. The way she held herself, with the confidence of a young child but with the grace of a lady. Her laughter, gentle but warm, cut into his memories.

A normal person would be stricken with remorse, agonized with regret. He simply disregarded those recollections, hardened his heart, and willed himself to forget.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ _I can't believe I'm actually doing this. Seriously, Mizuhikishipping? It's one of my favorite ships, but a little out of the ordinary for this girl. However, since there is a huge lack of Cynthia/Cyrus in the fanfiction archives, I'm going to try my hand at it. Prepare for much out-of-character interaction, as I've all but finished Platinum and my terrible brain can't remember the overall basis of their (nonexistent) relationship. _

_In any case, this is an experimental fanfiction of mine, one that I'm writing just so I can try it out. If you like it, thanks! If not, I don't really blame you._

_And before I forget: to erase any confusion, this is based on the D/P/Pt games, not the Pokemon anime. I'm not sure if it makes too much of a difference, but hey, clarification is good. Also, I'm taking some creative liberties and making Cynthia two years younger than Cyrus, putting her at 25 to Cyrus' 27 years at present time. (According to Platinum, Cyrus is 27. Strange. Perhaps stress can age a person.)_


	2. how it began

**2. how it began**

He first met her at the Canalave Library. He was fifteen, cautious and wary, eyes permanently aching with sleep deprivation. The mechanical rhythm of machinery was eternally etched into his mind, as was the hum of engines and the hiss of steam. He was fifteen, but already felt so old, so world-weary. There were mountainous expectations to be met and hurdles to leap, miles to run and knowledge to seek. There was absolutely no room for error.

And she... she was a strange adolescent, only thirteen. Her hair, long and golden, was always tied back in a haphazard ponytail. A persistent lock of hair obscured the left side of her face, shielding an eye. Her clothing always seemed to overwhelm her lithe frame, dark and striking against the pale white of her skin.

Of course, she had always been beautiful. Not the immediate sort of beautiful, though... the subtle kind. It was the kind of beauty photographers yearned for, the beauty only comparable to the sunrise and the flutter of a butterfly's painted wings and a cool wind drifting across the lull of summer. Yes, she was a strange one, an odd one, but if you looked at her closely enough, you could see somebody destined for greatness. The challenging glint in her eyes was evidence of that.

They had met each other in between rows and rows of dusty bookshelves and decade-old pages, he searching for operational manuals and she lost in a paradise of tomes. Her slender fingers would brush across the spines of novels carefully, as if tracing the finest silk, and then suddenly pull several books off the shelves, clearing half the library in his way. Each day, he would observe her meandering through the corridors, a stack of reading material balancing precariously in her hands. And each day, she would meet his tired gaze and send him a reassuring smile, as if he were a long-known friend and not a stranger, a future madman.

Sometimes he watched her with silent curiosity, eyes fixated on how she observed the rows and rows of books lined up on the walls. She would hum gently to herself, fingers tapping against the side of her thigh in a seemingly indiscernable rhythm. As if she sensed his gaze on her, she would turn and smile, not speaking. She never spoke, and he didn't mind. He was at home in the silence, the unquestioning air, the atmosphere thick with nothing.

Days passed, and the boy from Sunyshore and the girl from Celestic formed a strange, silent bond. In the few moments they spent in each other's company, nothing was exchanged but a few glances, amused expressions, and unspoken observations. They didn't quite know what was creating the silent barrier that was so evident between them. Maybe the two were too caught up in reading to care. Maybe nobody could summon the necessary courage to speak.

Maybe, unconsciously, they knew what fraught future lay ahead for them both.

It was she who broke the silence, she who first spoke one breezy summer afternoon. She gently mumbled something about his reading material and he found himself responding, as if the two were continuing a conversation they had left off some time ago. Eyes fixed onto the fine print of his book, he muttered one-word replies to her lilting, light questions. Minutes passed, and there was no hesitation to his voice. The barrier between them had fallen into nothingness.

This girl was different from the adolescents at Sunyshore, the ones who eyed him with cold glares and jeered at the humming robotics that came alive under his fingertips. When she spoke, she addressed him as her equal, not a freak of nature or a mechanical genius. He was hardly enjoying the exchange- if anything, he preferred the silence- but conversing with the blonde wasn't too painful compared to talking with anybody else. She was intelligent without being arrogant, kind without being overenthusiastic. Above all, she was genuine. No artificial flattery coated her words as she commented on his strange hobbies, only a faint but present admiration.

The lull of afternoon gave way to the pastel hues of evening. He learned that she was a Pokemon trainer, mind set on becoming the greatest in the region. She had been born in Celestic Town and was unhealthily obsessed with its mythology, attributing that interest with the fact that she was the town elder's granddaughter. She didn't know much about machines, which slightly disappointed him; however, they did share a mutual interest in reading. Her favorite color was black, she played the piano quite well, she had a thing for archaeology, she loved mint chocolate ice cream...

When she laughed a goodbye and the click of her heels receded down the stairway, he knew everything but her name.

He breathed a sigh of relief and returned to his reading, but the words and technical jargon ran under his eyes; watery, blurry, indescript. Now that the strange girl had gone and left him alone, the air seemed to resound with emptiness and the feeling that something was missing.

-x-

Light filtered through the darkness, flooding the world in the glow of morning. They were both there again, as if preordained; she tapping an indiscernable rhythm on a hardcover book and he trying to finish the book he had left untouched the night before. He was sitting at one of the gleaming wooden tables, deprived of energy. The novel was heavy in his hands, the words incomprehensible on his tongue.

The fifteen year old from Sunyshore had a reputation. _That's the freak_, the other teenagers would whisper indiscreetly, as if they hoped he would overhear. _Did you know that he hides away inside all day, building robots? Did you know that he skipped four grades? Did you know that he loves machines more than he loves his own family?_

"I don't know much about you," the girl spoke then, interrupting his thoughts. She hadn't taken her eyes off the bookshelf, but it was clear that she was addressing him. "I was the one doing all the talking yesterday. It was rude of me, but you're easy to have a conversation with, even if you don't say much." Her voice softened. "I'd like to be around somebody like you, actually. I want to know you."

_Did you know that I'm a genius? Did you know that I'm far more intellectual than a person of my age should be? Did you know that I'm a freak? An outcast?_

"You don't," he finally muttered, unwilling to meet her gaze. "You don't want to know me."

"I've seen you reading those books of yours," she continued, unfazed. "They're far more challenging than I can understand, but you're fifteen and seem to get them completely. I don't know if you're insanely smart, or if you have too much time on your hands, or..." Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged contemplatively. "...Well, I'm just curious, and a little bit intrigued."

"Don't be," he snarled back. "I'm not worth your time."

She bit her lip slightly, and without a moment's hesitation, quietly strode up to the adolescent hunched over his novel. On impulse, he lifted his head to look. Soft grey eyes met steely black, and he immediately averted his gaze just seconds before her voice broke the momentary silence.

"Why not?" The thirteen-year-old girl queried softly, searching his face for answers. "Why-"

He slammed his novel on the nicked wood of the table, fixed his eyes on her. His heart was raging with unnamed emotions, pounding in his mind though he still maintained a nonchalant composure. She watched him silently, eyes wide although she wasn't scared, wasn't afraid of him.

And without warning, one word slipped out of his mouth and another followed, and he was telling her everything. Everything that he had fought so hard to keep bottled up underneath, everything he had felt for so long and had kept hidden for so long... it was as if she were drawing the words out of him, holding him in place with her gentle gaze, searching, searching.

He told her of the expectations he had surpassed and the expectations he had yet to meet; he, the wonder boy, the child prodigy of Sunyshore. He was a legend in his city, scraps of metal and wires melding into whirring machinery underneath his deft fingers. His eyes would burn with tiredness and his ears would ring with the humming of the robots, the whirring of computers and gadgets and mechanics. His parents were ecstatic- far more ecstatic than was healthy for them. They glorified him and praised him and isolated him. They had to keep his genius untainted. Unsoiled. Unmatched.

They kept him working each day, locked up, as if a second's reprieve would cause his talent to seep away forever. He never questioned their authority; in fact, he preferred the bleak solitude of his confines to the cold stares cast upon him each time he slipped outside. And so he built, the weariness outside a temporary repose from from the emptiness inside. Solar paneling for the city walkways. Lifts for the city gym. Computers for the city buildings.

He built for the city, and the city shut him out. And still his parents pushed for more, adoring his talent far more than they adored him, heaping impossible, insurmountable requests upon him. The adults would praise him as if he were a deity. The adolescents would shun him as if he were a leper. While they plodded through the bleak monotony of schoolwork and involuntary education, he was allowed- no,_ encouraged_- to stay at home, tinkering with useless machines. They resented the boy._ Hated_ him.

"So why do you care?" He demanded. "I know you're just like all the others. You think I'm an antisocial freak, don't you? An untouchable prodigy who can't think of anything but machines. It's true, you know." His eyes were cold, boring holes into her composure. "Everything they said about me was true!"

For a moment, it seemed as if she had just been slapped. She was unaccustomed to hearing him speak, and to hear his voice, weighed down by the gravity of some immeasurable hurt... it was too much for her to absorb immediately. Silence reigned as she fought for words, what she couldn't say swimming in the empathy of her eyes.

Finally, she clenched her eyes shut and whispered:

"I may not know you, but I know how you feel. I've felt it too, that innate desire to be something great... to do something great. But there's the pressure of upholding some idiotic reputation, with the entire world seeming like it's against you. It's difficult, I know." Her eyes flickered open and found his. "We're in this together, whether you know it or not. We're two different people with different goals, but what we're up against is the same. You've never told anyone any of this before, have you?"

He remained silent, so she continued, voice resigned.

"It's because nobody will listen. I know this, too. And I'm willing to bet you ran away from Sunyshore, just like I had to run away from Celestic." Her eyes took on a hard, furious gaze. "Nobody thought I could be a Pokemon trainer. It was frowned upon in my town, battling and such. The people there clung to the old ways, and we were supposed to follow those rules and regulations. No gyms, no contests, no fraternizing with the travelers. And as the granddaughter of the town elder, I had to uphold those rules not just for myself, but for the entire place. I was hated! I was set apart from the others, just like you were forced into isolation. It was the worst life imaginable, you know, but I was bound to it. I could handle all the mythology and ancient studies- I loved it, stupid as that may sound. But I could _never_ stand shutting myself in and casting the world out. Never! Arceus, it was unbearable!"

She took a shaky breath, and met his cold, striking gaze. He didn't speak, caught off guard by the sudden display of emotion, heart pulsing with some foreign, strange feeling.

"But here I am, and here you are. We feel the same things and we face the same things. And no, I'm not trying to make you feel sorry for me or throw some idiotic pity party. I'm just saying that I understand how you feel." Her voice lost its edge as she met his eyes. "We can get through this together. You're not too alone now."

He was unable to speak, unable to move. She simply shrugged and walked off again, drifting to the nearest bookshelf as if nothing had gone wrong. Her heels clicked a rhythm on the floor, alleviating the silence that was so heavy in the stifling air.

_Click. Click._

Finally, he turned to his book and muttered, "You... are you really just thirteen?"

"I'm going to be League Champion one day," came the amused murmur, and he could hear her determined smile even without seeing her face. "Don't underestimate me."

-x-

A week passed, and strangely enough, nothing else was exchanged between the two. One day, though, he dared to break the silence.

She was wandering the floor, as usual. Wispy locks of hair fell across her face as she bent her head to read, and the faint sound of her heels clicked a steady beat on the mahogany floor. Instead of fixating his attention on the book, he watched her drift between the rows and rows of shelves, pure serenity written in her eyes. The girl seemed to enjoy wandering among the books more than actually reading them.

Sensing his gaze, she turned and cast her eyes on him. Instead of lapsing into the usual quiet, he abruptly asked:

"What would you think of a perfect society? A world without any imperfection?"

The girl didn't answer immediately. She hummed gently to herself, fingers tapping against the side of her thigh. For a moment, he wondered if she had heard him at all.

Just when he was about to repeat himself, the melody of her voice answered the question.

"A world without imperfection?" She mused to herself, an unreadable expression in her grey eyes. "Well, you could hardly call it a world anymore."

"Stop with your stupid philosophy," he snarled back, eliciting a raised eyebrow from the adolescent before him. "Just answer the question."

She contemplated slowly, more to annoy him than anything else.

"Well, it's a difficult question. Not really one to be taken lightly-"

"-I'm only asking for an opinion," He interrupted. "Stop trying to be intellectual."

She sighed resignedly, though a spark of amusement shone in her eyes.

"Fine, then. A world without flaws would be pointless." She tapped her fingernails lightly on the cover of a novel before carefully placing it back in its designated spot. Wisps of golden hair brushed across her forehead and obscured her vision, but she made no effort to brush them away. "What would be the purpose of a perfect world? If everything went smoothly all the time, life would hardly be exciting."

"Is that all you can think of? Excitement?" His cold eyes smoldered as they settled on hers. "Think rationally. The benefits of a universal utopia would far outweigh the consequences, even if perfection comes at the cost of your beloved playtime."

She rolled her eyes, disregarding his insult.

"I'm not saying that a 'universal utopia' would be all that terrible. You and I'd be rid of all this pressure, free to do what we want. Maybe you should reinvent the world to be like Canalave, where everyone's nice." She shoved the remainder of the books back onto the shelf uncharacteristically, contemplating the matter as she did so. "But still, I don't agree with you. Everybody's notion of perfection is different, and so it's impossible to create a perfect world."

"What if the world were rid of unnecessary evils, then? Wouldn't that be as close to perfection as one could get?"

"I guess so, if everybody agreed that the eliminated evils were really unnecessary."

He thought for a moment. "And what if we were to eradicate the entire basis of evil?"

"That wouldn't be a good idea. Without evil, there can't be good- just like you can't experience happiness without having felt sadness. I think you have to keep a balance of the two, and the same probably goes for the world."

"So if I were to construct a world without any of this strife- any of this idiocy, the rules and regulations you hate so much- you still wouldn't agree with me."

It was more of a statement than a question, but the girl still felt compelled to answer "Yes, I think so."

He turned away and didn't reply. Minutes passed without either adolescent having spoken, and the matter was dropped. It lay like a impassable, bottomless trench between them, a chasm that could never be crossed without dispute. It would remain like this, forever, though they hardly knew it now.

Ironically enough, though this was the subject that had brought them together, it was also the matter that would finally tear them apart.

-x-

She had to leave eventually. As he learned, trainers came and went, never stopping too long in one city or town. Days were wasting away, and the time between now and the League challenges was dwindling. To her, this time was everything.

On her last day in Canalave, she tossed him her journal. Sunlight filtered in from the raindrop-stained windows of the library, bathing the mahogany floors in morning light and illuminating the two as they sat together for the final time.

"Look," she told him as he thumbed through the pages. It felt like any other day, when deadlines and departures were the least of their concerns. "I've wasted June first to June twenty-third _reading_! I've spent three weeks here, and only two days were actually productive ones. If I don't leave now, I'll hardly make it past Sunyshore before August."

_Sunyshore_. He tensed at the mention of his city, eyes hard with pain. She noticed this and said nothing more about the subject, instead choosing to snatch her journal back before he could catch a glimpse of its contents.

"There's nothing interesting inside anyways," she assured him, smirking at his unconvinced expression. "Let me read you the last four entries. 'I spent time at the library.' 'I checked four books out at the library.' 'I went to the library again.' 'I had a riveting discussion with Cyrus at the library.' There, you can see how I spent my entire visit, and you can tell that I need to get a move on."

His eyebrow shot up when she mentioned his name, and she shrugged, not reading too deeply into his surprise.

"It's not as if you're a complete stranger," she explained. "Besides, you're part of the reason I stayed. I'm honored to have met you, actually- there's not many people like you in the world."

It was spoken kindly, without the mocking undertone that had accompanied most other compliments. He nodded in acknowledgement, feeling a sudden, foreign pang of regret as she stood up to leave.

"Be sure to greet everyone in Sunyshore for me," he managed to mutter. "Tell them their mechanical genius found a better city to lurk around."

Her eyes glinted with amusement. "Of course I will. I'm sure they'll all be jealous."

And then, before he could say a goodbye, she was gone.

* * *

_Author's Note: In this chapter, Cyrus is uncharacteristically upbeat compared to... his usual self. It upsets me a little, but I don't want to write him all psychotic and bent on world domination just yet. Adolescence is fun, is it not? _

_Am I the only one who holds onto the theory that Cyrus and Cynthia were childhood friends? To me, they seem to have known each other before all that nonsense at the Spear Pillar/Distortion World. I know my brother thinks so, but he's nine and agrees with pretty much anything I say._

_In any case, thanks for sticking on for so long. It's much appreciated._


	3. and what went wrong

**1. and what went wrong**

Two months passed before she became League Champion, the youngest in the world. Five months passed before he decided never to return to Sunyshore. And one year passed before she returned to Canalave Library, half-expecting to see the same young man sprawled at his table.

She wandered the floor, but the library was empty. The table they had once sat around was scratched and worn, cold under her fingertips. She sought him out between the dust-collecting bookshelves, between the rows and rows of technical jargon and the manuals he had so deeply absorbed himself in. She found nothing but empty space and loneliness, heard nothing but the click of her own shoes on the floor.

Her fingers ghosted the spines of the books, as if trying to bring back some distant memory. Outside, day was giving way to night, and the boy she was looking for had already fled to Veilstone City. It was so easy to get lost in the City of Stone, the towering walls protecting what was inside and casting everything else out. He was buried within those walls, isolated by will, building because there was nothing else to do.

The television brought news of her. They flashed pictures and lavished exuberant praise upon the champion, only fourteen years old and already so strong. She was so real and yet so_ distant_. You couldn't talk to her through the television screen. You couldn't brush back the lock of hair that hung over her left eye. You couldn't ask her what she had done to make herself so happy and expect her to talk back.

It was different now. The fleeting memories he had kept of her faded. What he knew about her was relegated to the trivial facts he had gleaned from watching news broadcasts, watching interviews, watching her eyes dance upon the smudged glass surface of the television set. The girl he had once known became another face watching him from a different, better world. She was untouchable.

-x-

Six years passed, and the champion was now twenty; beautiful, smart, radiant. She was still pale and slender, but no longer weak and frail. She was tall, commanding, and breathtakingly powerful. Undefeated.

Her grey eyes were sharp with precision and intelligence. Her hair was no longer confined to a haphazard ponytail, but allowed to cascade down her back, gold against the striking black of her clothing. Her words became elegant, ladylike. They no longer held the childhood edge that made her tolerable to the fifteen-year-old boy so many years ago.

The world had been cruel to the young man, though. Weary lines had been drawn across his brow, though he was still young. He was certain Sunyshore had turned its back on him, as had every other city in Sinnoh. His mind had been hardened against the memories, and he refused to see the world in any other way.

His blue hair took on a blacker sheen. His eyes were wearier, darker. If he spoke, his words were clipped and cold. Frigidity lay underneath every phrase he uttered. He became a shadow of a man, unsure where to go, unsure of his path, unsure of himself. The twenty-two-year-old had become invisible, worthless.

She taunted him through the television screen. _Remember when I was just like you, Cyrus? Now look w__here I am. Look what I've become. What have you done with your life?_

"Nothing," he spat out bitterly, as if the word revolted him. It was heard only by the whirring machines he had set up around his room, humming with artificial life. Worn down by disappointment and weariness, the twenty-two-year-old buried his head in his hands, pieces of scrap metal littering the floor he sat on. His newest project was aggravating him beyond belief, and he didn't need cruel memories to further his annoyance.

The PC at the Pokemon Center would break down on occasion- it was a crudely made machine, one that was as difficult to use as it was to put back together. The technicians Nurse Joy tried to hire had all given up, advising her to invest in better technology. Still, though, she had put up an appeal for more help, and he had accepted for the sake of doing something new. Not willing to work in public, he had hauled the contraption back to his home, where it lay like a heap of trash amidst his better inventions.

Even an experienced technician like him couldn't quite figure out the idiotic device. Hours of tinkering with the original software had given him a splitting headache, one that intensified over the progressing days. Without thinking, he tore the computer apart and studied the pieces individually. He reconfigured the software, rewriting and rewiring it until it seemed unnecessary to do so. Finally, when it seemed presentable, he pieced the machine back together and sent it back without further thought. He had nothing to lose if the blasted thing did break down again.

Much to Veilstone's amazement, the reconfigured PC worked remarkably well. Passing trainers from around the region never failed to comment on the functionality of the computer and how much it differed from the clunky, unresponsive ones that they encountered in other cities. He was rewarded with more money than he had seen in his life, and work opportunities spread like wildfire before his eyes. Canalave City mailed its PC to him, as did the developing towns of Sandgem and Floaroma. He shut his other machines down and immersed himself in repairing the computers, the arduous task growing familiar to his wizened fingers. Yet, it still took days to complete a project, and when more and more orders piled up, he found himself asking for assistance.

Only a few people offered help: three teenagers, all looking for some pay and a little excitement. He gave them the jobs of delivering the computers to other cities, as the finished products were too delicate to be carried by mail. By then, business had risen to a peak, and he found himself sacrificing his sleep to complete a task that now seemed so trivial to him. Eyes weak with weariness, the man worked from dawn to dusk, no life to value and nothing else to do.

-x-

Sinnoh only had so many cities, and by then, it seemed that each one of them was equipped with the newest technology- even Sunyshore, a city he built for with reluctance. Even so, only one town hadn't sent in a request for a new PC.

Celestic. He recognized the name, and long-ago memories swept over him like waves.

The town was completely against modernization, hellbent on preserving the history it was so deeply intertwined with. A Pokemon Center had been established there to appease the League, but it lacked most of the amenities the other cities offered. Since so many trainers were forced to travel through the town, many found it ridiculous that Celestic didn't have a computer.

_One of those involved in this struggle is the League Champion herself, Cynthia, _the news announcer blared through the television set. _As the granddaughter of Celestic's town elder, her fight for new technology undoubtedly bears great influence on the cause. Her recent arrival in the town is sure to aid the protest movements raging in the area, as her support is sure to herald success-_

Ignoring the offers from his three assistants, the mechanic set out for the small town alone, hauling Celestic's new computer along with him.

Although he didn't know it yet, everything he did was all for her. It was as if his subconscious had some deep, unerring obsession with the young woman, one he couldn't control because he never knew he possessed it. It was present everywhere: in his work, in his words, in his emotions. He wanted to succeed in order to catch up to her. He kept building to show her that yes, he could be just as happy as she had become. More jarring, though, was the realization that he simply wanted her company.

Even now, nobody had fully understood him- not like she had, so long ago. And as he walked the few, fog-enveloped miles to Celestic Town, his heart raced, anticipating her presence and her songlike, lilting voice. Maybe, with her, he would find a life worth living. True happiness.

It was twilight when he reached Celestic. A throng of protestors had gathered around the Pokemon Center, though most of the people there were ignorant about the commotion. Most prominent was the slender, black-clothed woman, grey eyes hard with some unknown resolve, standing at the other side of the crowd. Trainers swarmed about her like insects, but she didn't seem to care at all.

Mind set, he unintentionally barged through the sea of people, the heavy box in his hands doing a fine job of shoving them away. He attempted to call her name, but his voice came out in a hoarse rasp, deadened from lack of use. Around him, people shouted and yelled, obscuring any sound he tried to make. Tossed around in an ocean of limbs and noise, he was pulled through the crowd and finally pushed out, landing on his back in the damp, clipped grass.

Suddenly, she was right in front of him, as if it were some sort of fate.

The league champion offered a slender, pale hand to him, fingers curling around his as she helped him sit up. He rubbed his head instinctively, sudden pain searing through his skull. The box he had carried from Veilstone was on its side, blessedly unscathed, and the young woman eyed it with curiosity before returning to meet his gaze.

"Are you alright?" she inquired before he could say anything. Her voice was different now- smoother, more mature- but the amusement behind them was all the same. He nodded at her question, and a smile greeted his response. "I thought I recognized you, even behind all those screaming people. Believe me, though, a bit of noise won't do much to sway my grandmother. She's been indomitable for so long..."

Voice trailing off, she cast her dignity aside and took a seat on the grass next to him. They regarded the crowd before them as a spectator sport, a means of entertainment.

"What of the citizens here?" He finally ventured, surprised at how naturally it came. "Would they be opposed to a new computer?"

"So you know what we're fighting for, do you?" She smiled sadly, arms hugging her legs uncharacteristically. "To tell you the truth, almost everybody in that crowd is a resident of Celestic."

His eyebrows raised in surprise, and she laughed despite herself.

"Actually, it came as a shock to them when I joined the movement. They never imagined that a girl like me would try to defy my own grandmother, even as League Champion. I know that everybody's been restless and eager for change here, but nobody's had the will to speak up against her until now." Sensing that the conversation was delving into deep matter, she abruptly stopped and cast her attention on the box splayed by his side. "Hey, what have you got there? I'm willing to bet that it's something brilliant."

"It's a computer," he found himself saying. "I've been building these for cities across the region. This town doesn't have one."

If he was hoping to elicit ecstasy, he was sorely disappointed. Instead of marveling at his generosity, the woman simply answered, "Well, here's hoping Grandmother's going to accept it. Times have been tough here, and this entire movement is just one of her troubles."

"Well, I'm sorry for adding to them."

She shook her head vehemently. "No, no, I wasn't implying anything like that. It was incredibly generous of you to bring a computer with you, all the way from..."

"Veilstone."

"Veilstone," she confirmed. "Yes, that's a long way to travel, just to deliver something so small. I appreciate it, really." Genuine thanks shone in her eyes, and he forced himself to believe her. "The problem is, my grandmother's been worrying about monetary issues. Celestic doesn't attract many visitors, so it's losing revenue. There are hardly any funds for most of the town's needs, and buying a computer would be close to impossible." Her voice dropped to a murmur. "And even if more people came, Grandmother's afraid that they'll ravage the town's natural history. She wants to preserve it more than anything."

Her eyes closed in weariness, just as he asked, "The Celestic Ruins, correct?"

"Mm. I share her concerns, but I don't agree with the drastic steps she's taking because of them. She needs to let Celestic expand, even at the cost of some tradition." Her eyes fluttered open and met his sadly. "You always have to make some sacrifices, right?"

He nodded silently, and she watched him without words. As the crowd dispersed and the evening glow faded into night, she finally got up, offered a hand to him, and spoke.

"I know you're impatient to get that computer set up, but it's going to be a while until the Center's empty enough. We haven't talked in so long, though. I'm sure we've got lots of catching up to do." He took her hand and she helped him up, noticing the dark bags that hung under his eyes. "Let's go to the Celestic Ruins. I'll show you around. We'll be alone there."

-x-

The time he spent with her in the ruins was one of complete serenity. He had never remembered feeling so content, so at peace with himself. The chambers she guided him through were quiet and dark, a means of escape from the chaotic world. She regarded his relief with a smile- she had felt the same way too, so long ago.

"I go here whenever things get difficult," she explained. "Somehow, though, it feels as if the most important events of my life have happened in these ruins. I met my Garchomp here when I was eight... of course, he hadn't evolved yet, and almost bit my hand off," she laughed. "I also flew here right before the huge League challenges, made peace with my grandmother. She wasn't entirely happy with what I had done, but she knew that I was never suited for a life of monotony. I think it was this knowledge that helped me win the championship."

"And the League challenges. Were they difficult?"

"Incredibly so. Even now, I think I got lucky." She smiled softly, her childhood glories still fresh in her mind. "Lucian's still a hard one to beat."

They walked in peaceful silence until they reached the back of the ruins. The caverns opened up into a magnificent chamber, impressively preserved despite its old age. Though the room was spacious, one thing commanded his total attention- a giant mural, covering the cavern walls.

"This is my favorite part of the ruins. This mural, here-" She walked over to the wall and traced a section of it with a fingertip, a wistful smile on her face. "-This was what brought me into Pokemon mythology. And even besides that, there's the knowledge someone was here long ago, carving this design. To me, that's fascinating in itself."

It was a simple mural- a triangle with a single sphere inside. The symbol held his attention, but it hardly seemed to make sense.

Finally, he resorted to asking, albeit reluctantly: "Does this even mean anything?"

She nodded. "My grandmother did explain a part of it to me. See that circle in the middle?" She pointed to it, and he acknowledged it with a slight nod. "It's supposed to symbolize a deity, while the points of the triangle represent three others. These beings preserve balance with the one in the center, maintaining control in the world."

Seeing his cynical gaze, she shrugged and added, "Of course, these could be flawed interpretations. Whatever free time I have goes towards decoding this puzzle, but I'm not any closer to solving it."

"What are those 'beings', anyways?" He scoffed. "Why does it take three to control only one?"

"According to my studies, the one in the center is an Original Being- one of the Pokemon that created the world. Apparently, there were three of them: the deity of space, the deity of time, and the Original One- Arceus." She sighed, clenching her eyes shut, and continued.

"To be honest, it gives me a headache. I'm still not sure why it takes three entities to balance a single being, or who those three entities might be. And I'm even less certain about which deity the _sphere's_ supposed to represent."

"You have too much time on your hands," he found himself saying. She shook her head.

"No, Cyrus. Just... too many things to do."

-x-

It was nighttime when they left the ruins. Stars hung in clusters above the sleeping town, bathing the ground in otherworldly light. She gently murmured the names of some constellations to him, and he nodded along, not really paying attention. Listening to her voice was pleasant, but the mural she had shown him hung in the back of his mind like a shadow. It commanded his total attention.

"That mural," he interrupted her. "That deity in the center... you said it created the world."

"Well, it helped to," she muttered, a little insulted at being cut off. "Along with three others."

"So if one could harness that power, would that person have the capability to build new worlds?"

"Where is this heading?" Her eyebrows raised, and she sighed in exasperation. "This isn't about your 'perfect universe', right?"

"I'm surprised you still remember that. However, my question was purely hypothetical."

She scowled. "Alright. Fine. If you harness the powers of the deity of space, or the deity of time, or, heaven forbid, _Arceus_- then yes, I suppose you could create a new world."

"How interesting."

"And I hope I haven't given you any genius ideas," she added.

"Hm, ideas. I wouldn't say _genius_, but..."

She stared at him through narrow eyes, her voice suddenly turning harsh.

"Listen, disturbing one of those beings could have catastrophic effects on the world. I know you're incredibly capable, so I'm not putting anything past you. Get in over your head and everyone could suffer huge consequences."

His eyes glinted in the moonlight, giving off an icy stare. "A few victories and a title doesn't grant you the authority to preach."

"Hm. Well, then." She glared at him, but he could see that she didn't mean it. "A person dragging a computer from Veilstone isn't going to earn my immediate trust."

"So why do you trust me?"

"I never said that I did."

"You showed me the mural."

"I show _everybody_ the mural."

"Would you be standing here at night, in front of abandoned ruins, with a man you didn't trust?"

She scowled good-naturedly. "I'm the damn League Champion, Cyrus. Do you seriously underestimate me?"

A cold smile played at the corners of his mouth, and she eyed him with an expression that was one part frustration and two parts amusement.

"Strange." He finally muttered into the night air. "_You_ haven't changed a bit."

"Aside from the frown lines, neither have you," she retorted, the slightest smirk on the edges of her mouth.

-x-

He left the PC behind with her and started away from Celestic Town, knowing that it would be well past midnight before he set foot in Veilstone again.

"No new worlds," she had murmured to him before he left. "No capturing deities or attempting to kill people, alright?"

"I'll try my best," he had assured her. In that moment, he was sure he'd do anything for the witty, intelligent woman. It was an unfamiliar feeling, and lay heavy in his heart on the walk back to Veilstone, the blankets of fog obscuring his vision.

The girl simply watched as his receding form became a shadow in the night. The box he had carried was heavy in her arms, and she hauled it back to her grandmother's house, where a night was spent arguing and reasoning. The next day, the PC was carried to the Center and set up, much to the surprise of the protesting crowd. Cheers erupted, and she found herself smiling slightly at the memory of the man, the one who hid in Veilstone and experimented with machinery.

_How much will it cost us? _Came the note, hand-delivered from one of his assistants. _The computer?_

"It's free," he found himself laughing, eliciting gaping reactions from the three teenagers that stood in his doorway. "Tell her it's free."

Even the three assistants knew that something was different. Cyrus hadn't laughed in so long.

Little did they know that in a matter of years, everything would change.

* * *

_Author's Note: Yay, more creative liberties. Seems like things are going uphill with the whole Cyrus/Cynthia thing, right? Give it another chapter and it'll all come spiraling down again. (Commence evil laughter)_

_Don't get me wrong, though: I love the pairing. I just like seeing characters suffer more? (I don't know. I don't know.)_

_Anyways, not much went on in this chapter- just the whole backstory and everything. The next one will deal with Team Galactic, a fraught relationship, and a fateful explosion. Intriguing? Not really? K thanks._

_The experimentation continues..._


	4. in the end

**0. in the end**

_If she had known what was to come, she wouldn't have tried to find him. She wouldn't have stayed up at night thinking of him, wondering where he was in the world. She wouldn't have wasted her time reminiscing and wishing, wanting something she couldn't never attain. She wouldn't have remembered him._

_If she had been smart- if she had succumbed to the lull of time and simply forgot about the man- she would've still been alive._

-x-

With his new wealth, the man had been able to invest in a small house near the Veilstone Department Store. Though the towering building hung like a shadow over his home, he didn't mind- the property he had acquired was spacious, a luxury that had been foreign to him for many years. After much internal debate, he took his assistants in. Veilstone was no place for adolescents of their age, especially ones that were traveling alone.

He attempted to teach them about technology. Only one of the three, a reclusive young man named Saturn, seemed to catch on.

Life was finally starting to look better. Despite the fact that every city owned a PC, others still looked for his help. A scientist named Charon dropped by to comment on his work, offering a list of suggestions that the young man decided not to take. Letters poured in, asking for his advice about machinery (he left the task of answering them to Saturn, who never really wrote anything significant). The most memorable visit, though, came from her.

She had been looking for him ever since Celestic had received the computer. Challenges were dwindling, so she had much more time to enjoy herself. Despite the fact that Veilstone was hardly the place to relax, she knew the visit was worthwhile. After all, he, too, had walked miles to see her.

The man tried to mask his amusement at seeing her- the League Champion, of all people- standing in front of his doorway. She was a complete change from the usual Veilstone girls; composed, calm, clothed with some semblance of modesty. Her eyes lit up as they met his, though, the smile on her face casting his doubts away. Time hadn't changed her, not completely.

Unsure of how to receive his visitor, he settled on opening the door.

Disbelief flooded her eyes as she stepped inside. The place was pristine despite its small size, technology whirring in every nuance of the house. Computers blinked from all corners, filling the room with assorted blips and beeping. He regarded her awe with a slight smile, silently walking over to join her.

"This must be quite the profession," came the impressed remark. "In all honesty, though, I wouldn't expect any less from you."

Silence met her comment, and she bit her lip slightly, scanning the room. Though it was brightly lit and filled to the brim with machinery, she couldn't catch a glimpse of anybody else. "Where are your assistants? They live here with you, don't they?"

"Game Corner," he replied offhandedly, eliciting a small, knowing grin from the woman before him. "Children and their frivolties."

"And you don't indulge in them? I know about men when it comes to flashing lights and money. Of course, you'd probably be the one _building_ those gaming machines, so you must be tired of them."

"It's good pay for mindless work," he responded, somewhat amused. She rolled her eyes, the smile still present on her lips.

A blissful afternoon was spent wandering amidst the machines. He pointed their functions out, taking silent pleasure in the way her eyes widened in awe. With a snap of his fingers, he could power the entire building and shut it down again. A seemingly ordinary tile on the floor could warp him to the other side of the building. She found it difficult not to glow in pride every time he showed her a new invention, feeling mute happiness at how far he had come. He had found a good home, a good occupation. It was a huge step forwards from being the unsociable, cold recluse she had met in the library so many years ago.

"Hey," she told him when they had gone through all the machines. They were sitting placidly on the living room couch, he slumped against the backing and she sprawled unprofessionally across the cushions. It was hardly representative of her high position, but she didn't seem to care in the least.

He eyed her pointedly, prodding her to continue talking. She waved the gesture off, pulling herself up to a sitting position so she could speak with him face-to-face. Her casual air caught him by surprise. For the first time, he realized he had a friend.

Maybe that explained the foreign emotions that tugged at his heart. He wanted to understand them, but he knew that the subject was better left unexplored.

"I've got good news," she spoke before he could look into the matter. "Seems like my research on the mural's been paying off. I've finally gotten some idea of what the deities are... unfortunately, I can't confirm their identities just yet."

"But you do know something," he answered, his interest piqued. She nodded back, her eyes fixed on his with a weariness he couldn't quite place.

"Celestic Town's always been rooted in ancient history," she explained, arms wrapped around her knees. "Some folktales speak of three beings that guard Sinnoh- the physical embodiments of intelligence, emotion, and willpower. Each is rumored to reside in one of the major lakes of the region." She shrugged, as if she didn't quite believe it herself. "The three points of the mural's triangle probably represent the beings Uxie, Mesprit, and Azelf."

"This is just a folktale, then," he concluded. "A mere superstition."

"The people of Celestic Town believe it to be true," she replied offhandedly. "I guess it's a little farfetched, but the legend does make sense in relation to the mural. I still don't understand one thing, though- the sphere in the center of the mural, and what it's supposed to represent."

"If I remember correctly, it could be one of the Original Beings?"

"Precisely. I'm going to rule Arceus out, though. It doesn't seem likely that the power of these three beings- or, as they're commonly called, _lake guardians_-" She used her fingers to draw quotation marks in the air, eliciting a slight smile from the man. "-Can balance the power of the Original One. Assuming, of course, that Arceus _is_ the Original One."

"You're thinking too deeply into this," he muttered amusedly, shaking his head. A slight frown played at her lips.

"Well, _you _need to be a little more openminded," came the light retort. "Either way, if we take Arceus out of the equation, that leaves either the deity of time or the deity of space to fill in the gap. Dialga or Palkia."

He tilted his head in thought, mulling the names over silently.

"In any case, I guess the mystery's solved," she finally sighed, letting her head fall back against the cushions. "When combined, the powers of the three lake guardians can negate the abilities of a deity. One thing to keep in mind if you do attempt at that perfect world, Cyrus."

She shook her head and smiled softly, the mere idea ridiculous to her. He smiled back, amazed at how naturally the gesture came. What world could be more perfect than the one he inhabited now?

Her presence was enough to assure him of that.

A content silence filtered through the air, where she yawned slightly and fell back onto the couch. He watched her quietly, and she gazed back through half-lidded eyes. Was this what had been missing all these years? Peace? Tranquility? No, he figured, it was something far more than that.

Nothing eventful occurred in the following months. He was much more preoccupied with building machines to truly take notice, though. While his previous inventions whirred with cold functionality, his recent ones were imbued with life and color. Those who walked past swore that the house seemed to radiate with a strange, newfound energy.

Anyone close to him could tell it was all her doing. Her, the League Champion, the twenty-year-old he had somehow fallen for. They could see the way his eyes softened when he talked to the woman, the way he let his inhibitions drop completely. She was one of the few people he trusted; one of the few people, if not the only, that he loved.

She took him stargazing once, after realizing that the skies above Veilstone were surprisingly clear. Constellations dotted the blanket of night, the stars casting heavenly light on the cobbled streets. Smiling, she had noted that it was so coincidental. The name "Cyrus" embodied the sun. The name "Cynthia" personified the moon.

"It makes me think," she had laughed. "Maybe meeting you was some sort of fate. There are hidden rules within this galaxy, courses that we can never predict or dictate. It's what brings some people together. It decides what's meant to be."

He named his business Galactic Manufacturing as a testament to this new knowledge. The universe was a limitless place, a wonderland where time and space intertwined to form tangibility, life. It was a place where a man like him could meet a woman like her. It was endless. Eternal. _Fate_.

Business was steady enough to generate good income, and the twenty-two-year-old found himself enjoying the hours he spent piecing his inventions together. The adolescents finally took some interest in his work, assisting him when his burden became too heavy to carry alone. The lines on his face smoothed. The hard glint of his eyes softened. The man was finally free, no longer bound to a life of shadows and expectations.

He was happy- happier than he had ever been in his life.

-x-

A year passed. Then there was a sudden lull in business, one that threatened to send his carefully manufactured world spiraling down again. One could taste the silence; the air was so thick of it. No letters poured in, only bills and advertisements. His assistants, underwhelmed, simply lounged around the house.

Jupiter was the first one to realize why business was so miserable. Her partners looked up from their individual pasttimes as the television blared the news, realization hitting them instantly.

There was competition: _successful _competition that threatened to knock Galactic Manufacturing Co. into obscurity. It came in the form of a Hearthome City woman named Bebe, who had somehow discovered a new function for the personal computers Cyrus had so painstakingly constructed. Apparently, her new system allowed users to store their Pokemon in the form of digitized memory, keeping them safely held in virtual "boxes" that could be accessed anywhere. A training frenzy had swept the globe ever since authorized professors were permitted to give starter Pokemon away, so the popularity of Bebe's PC had grown worldwide.

The three wasted no time in relaying the information to their boss. He could figure a way around this development. He always did. Sinnoh already knew he was a genius in every aspect of the word- he could invent something ten times better. In the months that followed, Sinnoh waited, on edge, expecting an even better computer. One that would make the region a world power. One that would cement its position at the top.

_They kept him working each day, locked up, as if a second's reprieve would cause his talent to seep away forever. And so he built, the weariness outside a temporary repose from the confusion he felt inside. He built for the world, but the world had moved on. And still Sinnoh pushed for more, adoring his talent far more than they adored him, heaping impossible, insurmountable requests upon him_.

"Finished that computer yet, Cyrus?" The machine was bent and misshapen in his hands, like a block of wet clay squeezed into an indiscernable lump.

_Finished that computer yet? _The reporters from Jubilife shoved the question into his face, and he found himself wanting to shove the world _out. _

And all the while, visits from the League Champion became less and less frequent. With the influx of challengers, she barely had time to sleep. He found himself resenting her title, hating all it stood for and how much she had to protect it. Why did she have to work so hard for a position everyone knew she could maintain? Why did she have to fight so hard to show the power everyone knew she had, a power that could never be emulated or overshadowed? Why did the world love forcing burdens on her? On _him_? He worked to the sound of rage, blind fury ringing in his ears.

Day after tormenting day passed, and the question still made its way to his ears. "Cyrus, have you finished that-"

"No," he snarled back, catching Mars off guard. The red-haired teenager slunk back into the hallway, wincing as the sound of a welding torch filled the air. "Tell them that I'll never be able to do it. Never!"

The young woman crept away, and he buried his head in his hands, scrap metal littering the floor. How had this happened? How had his greatest success become his ultimate failure? He needed his mental acuity back, but lately, his mind had been fogged with stupid triumph and idiotic self-inflation. His world had become perfect, and he had taken it for granted. Now, his genius had abandoned him when he needed it the most.

Income ran dry, and he had to rely on the savings he had accumulated. There was a huge amount of money he had left unspent, and it lay in storage, rotting away. He and his assistants got by, though, each day passing by in monotony. With no business, there was no point in working. Shame at his failure kept him locked inside. He refused to see anybody, knowing that they would only scorn him.

Two years passed, and he had once again receded into the shadows of obscurity. "Cyrus" became no more than a legend in Sunyshore and a mere name in Sinnoh. Nobody seemed to recall the man that had revolutionized the PC. Nobody remembered that he had ever been a mechanical genius. And when visits from the Champion became all but distant memories, he knew that the world had truly forgotten him.

He didn't care. He understood the cruel mechanics of time- didn't quite accept them- but understood them nonetheless.

-x-

She was twenty-two when she heard from him again. The message came in the form of a simple note, tucked into a scroll and tied around a Crobat's neck. Its implications brought a sad smile to her lips as she stood outside the League building, the summer breeze dancing across the night air.

_Cynthia, __I need to talk to you. Visit if you haven't forgotten me.  
-Cyrus_

The Bat Pokemon took flight, its wings cutting silently across the darkened sky. She watched, fingers tightening around the small piece of paper, eyes following the Crobat as it receded into the distance. Veilstone lay miles away, while the towering League building loomed behind her like an ever-present shadow. She was still bound to her duty as Champion, though her heart clawed at its confines and begged for her to believe otherwise. She couldn't desert her work for the sake of conversation. Yet, some unknown force compelled her to tighten her grip around Togekiss' Poke Ball.

She called the Pokemon out reluctantly, as if committing some terrible sin. She knew, though, that there was some urgent matter that needed her attention. _He_ needed her attention. And the thought of the young man waiting for her, as if she possessed something he desperately craved, sent a wave of brilliant ecstasy coursing through her mind.

The League Building didn't miss her that night. She willed herself to leave it behind before she could feel regret, flying to Veilstone without a second thought.

_

* * *

_

**Author's Note:**_ There's still another chapter to go, then the epilogue. _


End file.
